Razzle Dazzle Star Shine
by Amanda9
Summary: Completed Don’t you just hate it when men use you and control you? Star does, and she’ll use as many men as possible to seek her revenge, and learn much more Slight ff slash
1. A Star is Born prologue

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Title: **_Razzle Dazzle Star Shine_**

By: Amanda

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Feedback; sweety167@yahoo.ca

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Rating: R

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Disclaimer: the Batman characters, locations and myth are, sadly, not mine. 

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Summary: Don't you just hate it when men use you and control you? She does, and she'll use as many men as possible to seek her revenge. 

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Chapter Competed: April 7, 2004

Prologue:

The wind picked up, and the pair of young women pulled their coats tighter around themselves. The thin coats provided little protection over the short skirts and thin dress shirts, the official uniforms for waitresses at Last Call night club. Only now the night time hot spot was deserted, long after closing time, leaving the two women alone in the dark parking lot. 

"I'll see you later Suzy," the tall, average framed brunette swept the hair out of her face. 

"Take care doll," Suzy waved back on her way t the waiting car, and her driver boyfriend sitting less than patiently behind the wheel, "And Sara," the last call making the other woman turn back, "be careful."

The same warning came after every shift they shared together, since Sara insisted on walking home. And really, the drive would be out of the way for Suzy, well her boyfriend at least – the other direction and all. 

"Will do," Sara smiled back, giving another wave before taking off in a brisk stride down the alley. 

This was the same route she always took home – cutting through a pair of allies to reach the bright streetlights of Main Street in half the time, then only two more blocks to her apartment. And at the silence of three am, the city almost seemed peaceful. Currently the only sound was the hollow clunk of her heels on the dirty pavement. 

Rounding off down the second alley, the few over-head lights had burnt out; casting the narrow space into darkness. Soon the hallow sound of her steps were echoed by flatter, heavier ones, quickly following hers. Or was that her imagination? She picked up the pace, breaking into a fast stride, and so did the others. They were matched, step for step. Typically the back alley was empty, so the suggestion of another presence made her nervous, scared even when she heard the breathing paired with the footsteps. 

A new sense of panic drifted over Sara. She had no reasonable plan, outside of a desperate need to reach the end of the alley and appear on Main Street. But she didn't dare make any sudden moves yet, and risk an unprovoked attack. Instead she maintained her steady steps and ignored the thudding beat of her heart in her chest. 

But what the girl didn't realise, having only moved to this dark city, was that most attacks were unprovoked: The acts of insane rogues, twisted minds or the morally deranged. In Gotham City crime was never a provoked reactions, it was vicious. 

The footsteps and breathing sprang from the darkness in a form of a man, lunging at the walking woman. He sprang at her, forcing her against one of the brick buildings. He sprang, trapping her. 

Sara shrieked, but the scream for help was cut off when the man wrapped his hand around her neck, slamming her head against the wall. 

"Shh," he hissed into her face as he pinned her body with his own. His excitement of the hunt was obvious against her thigh. "I'm not going to let HIM break this up," his voice was thick and dark, in a way that made her sick. 

She had no idea who the stranger ment, and she really wasn't concentrating on that. With as little as she had with her, she was concerned with fighting back. She began thrashing; her arms straining against his, her body attempting to lift him and her legs kicking. She was hoping for one, well-placed knee. 

He, on the other hand, was cautious of it and growing continually impatient with her squirming. His hands wrapped around her neck again, holding her against the wall. 

"I'm gonna like this."

He flashed a lip-curled sneer before smashing her head into the structured rock. 

The force gave off a bright light then a cold dark. 

* * *

A buzz of noises. Voices. Words. And sheering pain. 

Sara opened her eyes to the blinding white light shining over her. 

"Thank God she opened her eyes." She heard the words long before the uniformed woman crouched down in front of her. 

"I'm officer Rita Sinclair," her voice was gentle, "You're going to be okay, so try not to move." Her lips stopped moving but Sara could still hear her words; "You'll never be really okay again. But you'll live."

A forced smile appear on the officer's face as she popped up to her feet and bellowed down the alley, "Can we get some her back here?!"

It was then that Sara noticed, in her strange dizziness, the chaos and movement around her. The dark alley was lit by artificial light now, and far from empty. The opened end was filled now with police cruisers and a flashing ambulance. From which two EMTs were rushing. 

Sara had no clear recollection of what had happened to provoke such a crowd. All she knew was that she ached – throbbing pains all over her body and a head ache splitting her mind. Against direct orders she reached a tentative hand up to the back of her head, the source of her pain. Her brown hair felt matted and sticky, like a patch of hair soaked in blood. 

At the sharp-shock induced gasp she felt her chest rip. Looking down she saw the thick red soaking through her shirt. 

"Careful now," the male EMT quickly interjected, brushing Sara's hands away from the spot on her chest. 

"We're gonna take care of you," a female appeared, a reassuring smile on her face. But Sara could hear her. "Oh god! Oh god…this is bad, this is bad." She could hear the EMT repeating those three words over and over like a mantra, but never once saw her lips move. 

The pair of emergency personal poked and prodded at her, ensuring that they could move her to help her. Once they were satisfied, they lifted her onto the gurney – carefully pushing her to the waiting ambulance.

"It looks like the flying freaks didn't help her," a gruff voice actually scoffed as Sara's gurney was pushed by. 

Rolling her eyes over toward the voice, Sara saw the figure as yet another police officer; a detective standing with the introduced officer Sinclair. 

The female officer just shook her head, clearly disappointed, "I'll follow and get her statement at the hospital." She started to walk away, but stopped as if she was going to say something, only she didn't. 

But Sara could hear it, "_Batman isn't heat to do our jobs."_

* * * 

Another bright light woke Sara, only this was the white of a hospital room. She was still stiff and sore, but the spinning had stopped. Having the freedom now she reached for the blood soaked spot on her chest, finding a thick bandage hiding what, she didn't know. 

"Miss Adams?" the officer from before poked her head into the room, obviously having found her ID. 

Sara just looked at her, giving silent permission to enter. "What happened to me?" she spoke the question as soon as the other woman closed the door. 

"I was hoping you could tell me," Rita gave her a sad smile again as she took the seat next to the bed. _"Please don't make me tell you."_ And again there were words without anyone speaking them. 

Sara was finding this growingly uncomfortable and confusing, "Don't want to tell me what?"

Rita Sinclair stilled in her movements, a look of shocked-disbelief crossing her face, "I…ah…I just want to hear what you can remember."

Sara watched the officer carefully, sure that that wasn't what she ment, "I was walking home and someone attacked me."

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"Billy Young."

"Billy Young?" she was sure that she heard that.

Rita's eyes shot up from her notepad to the woman on the bed. She stammered to find words. 

"Is that who did this?" Sara motioned to include the whole situation. 

Opening her mouth to form a denial, Rita broke with an honest reply. "Yes. At least I think so…that slash on your chest, a star, is his trademark." She sighed sadly, as if a great weight was lifted as well as placed on her. 

Sara moved her hand slowly to the bandage again, "Trademark…of what?" her voice was shaken, but she really had no memory beyond a man, this Billy, pinning her against the grimy wall. 

__

"Oh God!" Officer Rita was new and nervous, "He…he attacks women…um, sexually." Rape cases always made her sick. _"Don't make me say it."_

"I understand. I won't make you say it," Sara replied to the unspoken request. 

The officer was startled, that was the third time she could swear Sara had heard what she thought. _"Can you hear me?"_

"Of course I can hear you," Sara snapped almost defensive against the insane questions, "I want to know when you'll catch him, punish him!" Her tone was harsh and cold, detached. 

Rita's eyes shifted around the room, she felt oddly exposed in the small room with the injured woman, but she needed to respond, "We can try, if you can give me a statement…details." _"But I can't lie to her we'll never be able to punish him…Allen will never let his stoolie go down."_

"Who's Allen?" Sara's eyes narrowed, a rage filling her. 

"Detective Jake Allen, he's the lead on this case," Rita replied slowly, cautiously, "Why?"

"He's the one who laughed at me," an image of the detective standing next to the officer came to Sara's mind. She couldn't sit in bed now, instead she carefully rolled out of bed and padded over to the closet, fully intending to leave. She walked with a slight limp and great pain. The steps were slow. 

The officer's heart went out to her, but she really didn't have anything to say. _"I pity her, poor girl."_

Sara could hear her clearly, and the idea of pity was an infuriating one. It just made her keep going, through the pain. Pulling the door of the small closet open she found that she lacked clothes, only large cotton pants and more open-backed gowns. But there was a mirror, and Sara caught the first glimpse of the new her: the blood had seemed to stain her hair a strange, murky purple. Her face was drawn and pale. Next she went for the large bandage taped on her chest.

Rita was also watching her. 

She pulled off the sterile tap ad dressing, pulling it back to reveal the dark red slashes carved into her flesh. Seep, red cuts that still glistened. 

"Usually the women don't survive that," the words slipped from Rita's mouth before she could stop them. Or was that a thought?

Sara ran her finger along the sticky gashes, not feeling the fresh pain. "I understand why people take the law into their own hands now." _"And why I will…"_


	2. Deadly Game of Cards

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Title: _Deadly Game of Cards_

Chapter Completed: April 8, 2004

Two Years Later: The halls of Arkham Asylum were quiet, strangely quiet. The gothic building had an ominous feel, even without its inmates. Usually deranged laughter and cries filled the chasmic space, but on this night, at this hour, everyone was still and silent. 

Boots clinked on the cold cement floor. On a typical night the guards would be making rounds now, but not tonight. She made sure of that. In her 'gifted' way she had gained the security keys and was making her way to the Violent Criminals Ward, leaving the two guards self-cuffed to their chairs. It always amused her to see what she could make men do; it was their thoughts that scared her. 

She unlocked the large, heavy metal door and entered the darkest corridor of the building. It was then that she realised she didn't know where she was headed. She knew what she wanted, but not where to get it. 

Carefully she crept to the first solidly encased cell. The only way to see in was through the small barred window on the door. As she peered into the dark room another pair of eyes and face popped into the rectangular space. She jumped back, more in surprise than fear. 

"Pretty lady," Croc croaked, baring his gnarled teeth through grey-scaled skin – his attempt at a smile. 

"Thanks doll," she smiled back, taking the time to scan his thoughts. Not so surprisingly to those who know him, Croc had none. She relaxed, leaning against the door to get a better look inside, "Can you help a girl out big fella?" Her voice took on a sweet, musical tone. 

The large inmate almost looked bashful, sheepishly looking at his clawed feet. 

"I'll take that as a yes," she muttered to herself, "I'm looking for someone to help me…but I don't know where to find him."

His head shot back up, "me help! Me help!"

"Okay, good start," she smiled again, big and false. "There's someone specific I'm looking for…The Joker."

The mammoth creature on the other side of the cell wrinkled his scaly brow. He was thinking. "Um…down tha hall," he pointed, although she couldn't see him from the darkness. 

"Ah, thanks." She wrinkled her own nose as she stared down the dim hall. This little conversation hadn't helped her at all. 

She stepped back from the door and began the trek. There was only one other time she was even in a place like this, but never LIKE THIS. Quickly she shook the memory from her head, she had a mission of sorts to finish and delving into the past wouldn't do her any good. 

When reaching the end of the corridor she heard the one thing that told her she was in the right spot and hadn't wasted her night; twisted laughter. She peeked into another cell, 0801, and found the emerald haired man laid out on his cot. His head dangling over the edge in mad giggles. 

She smiled in her own twisted grin and drummed her fingers on the door to gain his attention. 

The ghostly pale man sat up at the noise. He cocked his head to the side, regarding the pair of eyes staring at him with curiosity. 

"Trouble sleeping?" she stepped back slightly, so her face was visible through the small window, with her teasing smile. 

"And miss a moment of the night life here? Never!" The Joker hopped off the tiny bed and, as best he could trapped in a straightjacket, charged the door. 

She mock-pouted, "And here I was going to let you out," she held up a set of stolen keys, "while you're having so much fun."

His green eyes widened at the sight of the shiny keys, like a starving man with a steak. He licked his ruby lips, "I might be persuaded to leave the party early."

She laughed, but took the time to read the new mystery in front of her. Unlike regular minds of conscious and unconscious thoughts, this was jumbled. Laughter, ranting, creaming and words. Loud noises really.

"If I let you outta here, you have to promise to help me with something," she stated the conditions. 

He scowled, as best he could with a permanent grin, "And just who are YOU to order ME around?"

"Other than the girl with the keys?" she jingled the ring in question, "Star." She gave a cheap curtsey. 

"Star?" he raised an eyebrow at her, slowly looking her over, from her purple dipped hair to her black heeled boots. A large purple star adored the tight black shirt she wore, prominently over her chest. 

Star crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot in lack of patience, "Make up your mind…I could always get that _thing_ down the hall to help me." She looked down the corridor toward Croc's cell. 

"Well, you have a passion for purple," he grinned with crocked lips, "Spring me doll!"

Using the stolen keys Star unlocked the massive door, unleashing the Crown Prince of Crime back onto Gotham. 

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" the inmate clown padded into the dark hall, barefooted, and began sizing up this new female again, only closer now. _"The things I could do to her with a rubber chicken"_

"First, you might wanna clean up those thoughts," the purple and black clad woman glared at him, "Then, maybe you're self?" It was her turn to size him up now. The dingy white straightjacket and grey uniform did nothing for the pale skin of the clown. 

He shrugged his shoulders as if he really didn't care, almost as if bored, "Where are the guards?" the random thought popped into and out of his head. 

"I told them to keep each other tied up," she shrugged now, nonchalantly. 

"You don't look crazy," he switched thoughts again, as he began evaluating her. 

"I'm not," she stated bluntly, "They think I am. Seems being in the same room as people who make themselves into road pizza makes some one crazy." She shrugged and smiled, "Or did she push them?" She laughed a little at her own little joke. 

The Joker slipped into his own world again, having become bored with her story and began fidgeting with the cotton, backward jacket encasing him. 

Star shrugged a shoulder and moved to assist him. One leather strap and buckle at a time the Arkham resident was freed, but still unfashionably dressed. 

"OH! These are yours," she dropped a duffel bag to the floor and kicked it toward him.

He reached down and began rummaging through the contents: his suit, playing cards and various other confiscated trifles. He pulled out the royal purple zoot suit and stared at her. 

"Don't be getting bashful on me now _doll_," she teased, turning her back to him, the idea of offering privacy. But Star was about to learn an important lesson when it came to the Geisha of Giggles – never turn your back on him. 

As she turned away one of the newly reacquired death cards sailed by her head and wedged itself into the wall. The Joker himself was about to learn a lesson about the mysterious Star. She moved her head the quarter of an inch away from the razor edged card- just enough to avoid being sliced by it. 

Star turned back around to face him, a ghost of a smile haunting her face, "You have such visual thoughts, you might want to control that." The smile slipped to a sneer, giving him a warning, "Get dressed clown." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as a different though echoed into his head, "Maybe later, if you're a good boy." She winked at and turned back around. 

Gingerly, she worked the playing card from its wedged place in the wall. She then pulled a small envelope from her person and proceeded to tack it up with the card. A good way to leave a message. The small purple envelope, addressed with a bat logo adorned with a pink bow over it's head, was stuck to the wall with a razor edged Queen of Spades. A good way to get the attention that it deserved. 

"Ready to roll" Star turned around in time to watch the Joker pin the unassuming pink flower into his lapel. 

"Born ready," he let out a string of giggles that meshed with the insane cries of the asylum. 

The evil danger of the Joker was unleashed on Gotham, and an equally dangerous figure held all the cards. 


	3. Once Bitten

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Title: _Once Bitten_

Chapter Completed: April 9, 2004

The usually dark and empty halls of Arkham were lit and busy. A whole department of the GCPD had conjugated in the gothic wing of the building. The Joker's escape was enough to draw a crowd, but add it that the female accomplice and the danger doubled – as did the attendance. 

Batgirl walked through the corridor, trying her best to ignore the rising catcalls. The affectionate name of bitch regenerated most commonly from cell to cell. She had had a hand in most of their incarcerations. 

Commissioner Gordon gave the crime fighter a welcoming nod as she approached. "We couldn't move them," he felt he should offer some sort of apology for having her go through that. He always felt this strange need to protect the female third of the city's crime fighting sect. 

She simply nodded, taking a look around. She always hated dealing with her father in these situations. It made the double life seem like a lie. 

"The Joker escaped, with the aid of a female…" Gordon began immediately with business. 

"Harley Quinn?" Batgirl asked, peering into the now uninhabited cell, the empty uniform and straightjacket on the floor. 

"Locked up on her own," he continued without missing a beat, "Just unlocked the door and let him out. Cleaned out his effects too. Not one guard stopped them."

The hero nodded along, listening and looking. 

"Left you that," Gordon pointed to the card and envelope in the wall, "At least I think it's for you." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Anyone touch it?" Batgirl asked, cautiously approaching the left over relic.

"No one wants to," came the blunt reply.

Again came a nod. Reaching with her gloved hand the hero carefully pulled the trademark card from the wall, releasing the addressed envelope. She held her breath before cracking the seal – when the Joker was concerned one could never be too careful. But the content was only a folded piece of paper, which she dumped in her hand. Unfolding it, the small note read:

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B, 

Hey hon, long time no see. But I told you I'd be back, didn't I? Unfinished business you know. But don't worry, I haven't told anyone of your little secrets, relax Babs. It'll be good seeing you again though. 

Kisses –S.

Batgirl quickly refolded the letter, careful not to appear alarmed and also to not allow anyone to see the text. 

"Do you know who sent it?" Commissioner Gordon voiced the important question. 

"Ah, yes, actually," she was lost in her thoughts, remembering her encounter with the letter's writer. 

__

The rooftop of Gotham Arms Apartments was slick. It rained hours earlier, giving the night an ominous, calm feeling. It put everyone on edge. This city was never calm. 

Batgirl found herself stationed atop the building in a stand off with an almost hysterical brunette, who was teetering closer to the edge: both figurative and literal. 

"You're going to hurt yourself," came the lame warning. She was trying to coax her in from the edge. 

The young woman laughed. A broken, twisted laugh, "Like they haven't hurt me already!" She turned sharply, but did not come off the stone ledge.

"Please," the hero took a panicked step closer to her. She felt worried for the girl, feeling some strange pity for her. 

"Don't pity me!" she suddenly shrieked. 

"Just please come down," she called back, "You don't want to fall…"

The stranger laughed again in her sad way, "I've already made two people jump." And with that she hopped off the ledge and on to the flat roof surface. 

"Two people?" the hero tried to question, but the other just continued. 

"Although I wouldn't call them people, not for what those bastards did to me. He raped me and the other let him!" the young woman continued to rant, facing the costumed audience, "Don't you hate it? The way these men take you and use you anyway they see fit? To hell with what SHE thinks or feels. It's for your own good he says, trust him he says. After all he has the power, he's the man. He can use you anyway he sees fit!"

The rant slowly resided and made sense to Batgirl. Each uttered statement she had experienced. And the other woman knew it, she could read it. 

"I see you know too," a small smile tugged at her mouth, drawing up the corners, "Tell me, what does the Batman do to you, Barbara?" 

Batgirl stumbled back. How could she know who hid under the mask?

"Don't worry," she spoke in a soothing voice, slowly creeping closer, "I won't tell them your secrets, any of those secrets." She was only inches away, her eyes sympathetic and hand gently caressing what was exposed of her face…

Batgirl shook her head, clearing the metal cobwebs and to answer the waiting officer. "Sara Adams," she replied clearly, "The one with the Joker is Sara Adams…or Star."

The Commissioner nodded, almost confused by the nickname, but went to report the all-important details to the other officers. 

Batgirl though, was plagued with the other memories in her head. 

__

It was the second time Barbara had met Sara, only this was without the pretence of cap and cowl. There was no point with her, she already knew. Claimed she could read it in Barbara's mind. That was part of the reason she was there, locked up for help at the upscale psychiatric hospital. The bankroll by Barbara and the recommendation from Batgirl had kept her out of Arkham. It just didn't seem right to lock her away in that dark place. But Barbara felt many different things when it came to this new woman. 

"Hiya Babs," Sara didn't even look up from her book. Being locked away and studied gave her plenty of time for her own research. At the moment it was Telekinesis. 

"Sara," she carefully entered the white washed private room. She didn't fear her, but she was still on edge. 

"I hear I'm to thank you for me accommodations," finally the inmate put away her book and looked up at her guest. 

A half smile tugged at Barbara's mouth. 

"But I'm not crazy," Sara stated bluntly, rising to her feet and advancing on the guest, "But you never believe me."

"Well, you believe you can control people's minds," Barbara began to justify herself. 

"Because I can. Read them too," she smiled at her, a twisted little smile, "You mind is an interesting book."

Barbara took a large step back, shaking her head. The very idea disturbed her. 

"Let me show you," a twinkle showed in Sara's eyes. Easily she pushed a small call button, signalling doe an orderly to come to the room. 

In good time a broad shouldered man, dressed in a white cotton pantsuit, came strolling into the room. "Problem?" his voice was gruff and uninterested. 

"Just need help," Sara smiled, than began speaking in a soft, musical tone, "Fetch me that jug." She pointed across the room. 

Automatically, he retrieved the object for her and waited patiently for the next command. 

"Not convinced?" she asked the audience of one, "I'll take it up a notch…" her smile twisted. Turning to the man the sweet musical tone left her mouth again, "Dear, jump out that window."

In shocked awe, Barbara watched as the orderly began to carry out his orders. The man went to the room's only window and started throwing himself against the bars and glass. It wasn't until the glass shattered and blood began oozing from the cut on his forehead that Barbara broke from her awe and panicked. 

"Call him off! Call him off!"

Sara sighed, "Stop," she suggested to the dominated man. 

And he again followed the direction, stopping his movement. A confused look covered his face, "Anything else Star?"

Sara simply shook her head and dismissed the exemplified man. 

Turning back around she caught the questioning gaze of Barbara, "I was thinking of using that as my name, when I continue with my work, Star." She pulled at the collar of her shirt to reveal the corner of the star shaped scar on her chest, "Seems fitting." It was, after all, typical to name oneself after what creates them.

Barbara looked at her almost sadly, "You need help."

Sara laughed, "And you really think this place will help me? Why would the same bastards who hurt me ever help me? They made me doll, you of all people should understand that."

Even now, the two years later, she saw it. Batgirl and Barbara could relate to the same feelings that Star and Sara expressed. She just had no idea how deeply the social cuts went for Sara. But she was about to find out. As was the rest of Gotham. 


	4. House of Cards

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Title: _House of Cards_

Chapter Completed: April 19, 2004 

Insane giggles travelled through the night as the purple convertible flew down the road. 

"At least you have a passion for purple," The Joker was still trying to size up the woman who had sprung him.

"I have many good qualities," Star flashed him a bright smile, "and maybe you'll get to see them."

He threw his head back and propped his lanky legs up on the dashboard. He took a moment before breaking into laughter again. 

Star rolled her eyes at the demented clown, but all this had a purpose. Those who had hurt Sara were going to be punished. However, the moment Sara and Star had evolved into two separate people was unknown to her, the distinction just seemed normal. 

"Where are we going exactly?" the most logical question came randomly from the clown. 

"Far from here," she replied almost cryptically as she turned the car down a dirt road. 'Now Exiting Gotham' declared the sign. 

"Why?" he sounded like a child. 

She replied to him as if he really were, "So, they won't find us until we're ready."

The violent bumps of the road made the Joker sit up and pay attention, "Just what do WE have to be ready for?"

Sara turned to glare at him, "Just a little case of revenge." Her smile spread into a twisted grin. 

He raised an emerald green eyebrow at her. 

"Haven't you always wanted to play with the Bat?" she sing-songed, turning the car on a sharp corner into the parking lot of an old motel. 

"Batsy?" The Joker replied like a happy child, "Just what do you have against the caped critter?" 

They made no move to leave the car. 

Star turned to stare at him seriously, "It's for a friend. Both internal and external friends." She then flashed a bright smile and hopped out of the car. "Stay put," her voice became musical and he obeyed, which she had no doubt about. "Behave," she called over her shoulder as she skipped across the dirt car lot to the manager's office. 

Star swung her tightly clad hips and clinked the heels of her boots on the dingy titled floor. Sauntering up to the counter she leaned across it, ringing the tired bell. 

After a undesired amount of time a burly man staggered out from the room, grunting as a form of greeting. 

Star went stiff for a moment, jumping back from the counter, from him. Sara crept to the front of their collective mind. The man behind the counter looked far too much like the living shadow that had created the pair of women in one body. He had the same build as Billy and the same sick fear began to creep up from her stomach. The fear was still fresh. 

"Need a room?" his gruff voice asked as his eyes attempted to drink the young woman in. 

Sara looked like a deer caught in headlights. Star was desperate to regain control. Pushing forward a smile spread on her face. 

"Hiya doll," Star began turning her voice in her skilled way. She fought the sick bile rising in her gut as she read the sick thoughts filling the man's mind. They were all really the same, just different levels of depravity. 

"Need a double room," the music appeared in her voice, "Number twelve," she pointed to the key to the most isolated room, "No change."

"Number twelve, no charge," he parroted, handing over the key adorned with a large wooden tag. 

"Just forget we're here," she instructed, snatching away the key and turning on her heels; the clown was waiting in the car. 

Star walked back to the car, no increased hurry in her step. 

"Back?" Joker asked sounding groggy as she slide back into the car. 

"Aren't you observant," she laughed, reaching over to pinch his cheek; laughing harder when he slowly flinched away, scowling at her. 

She drove the obvious purple car around the long building complex, tucking it in away from the sight if the road. 

"Honey, we're home," she teased, gaining a more characteristic grin from the clown. As she slid out of the automobile he followed. The effect of her 'gift' was like a thin veil over one's mind – slowly lifting as the action progressed. When under the influence of her musical suggestions, one could see what was happening but take no active part in it. Yet waking was as if that person had acted on pure, personal instinct. And leave no clear memory of the girl who had put the ideas into their head or that she had been there at all. It may have been like a dream, but Star wasn't really sure. 

That was the only thing Star could thank Billy for. But forcing him off of a roof wasn't really a thank you of sorts, as much as it was revenge, but it certainly got the point across. 

Ignoring the throbbing reminder in her memory, re-locking that part of her brain as she unlocked the motel door. The door swung open to reveal an outdated, cliché room. Tacky wallpaper clinging to the dingy walls, a pair of faded and stained bedspreads draped over the lumpy looking twin beds and an ever present bible sitting on the bedside table. 

"Charming," the Joker whined, looking over the new surroundings. He was used to less than luxurious hideouts, but there was always a certain charm to rundown toy factories. A charm that this place lacked. 

"The first place they'd look for you is a factory," she chided his thoughts and justified her choice. Hiding out in the open was perfect. Sure she was new at this costumed villainy, but she still had an idea of what she was doing. "No one will find us here, no one would think of looking," Star continued her self-confident justification as she pushed into the room. 

The Joker trailed behind, an almost snobbish sneer adoring his grinned face. 

"Oh," Star groaned, "entertain yourself while I have a shower." She pushed the television remote against his chest, forcing the suggestion onto him, "There has to be something on."

He shrugged, taking the remote and bounding over to the bed. 

She simply rolled her eyes but was thankful he was distracted. Being honest with herself, this little exertion wasn't going particularly well. Although it was flawless in execution so far, she had no definite plan for her new companion, just a raw desire for revenge. For Sara, but mostly for all women. For all of those that were failed and left twitching in the wind. She was going to name a new age for women by bringing down the main figure. By bringing down the false idol that all of Gotham seemed to worship, by bringing down the Bat. 

She smiled at that. Content with her goal, even without a plan, renewed the spring in her step. Star gathered up the needed provisions from her own duffel bag and headed for the shower. 


	5. Strip Poker

****

Warning: This is where the R rating comes in!

Title: _Strip Poker_

Chapter Completed: April 19, 2004

"Argh!" The Joker let out a groan of frustration, throwing the television remote at the screen. Which cracked and sparked with an electric surge before going black. 

"There's just nothing good on TV anymore," he commented in a sing-song voice from his position sitting cross legged on one of the lumpy motel beds. He let out a string of twisted giggles at the pointless destruction before falling back on the bed in another groan of boredom. And he was bored. It had felt like days since he had been sprung from Arkham, even if barely a day, and still he had not had any fun. And a bored Joker was even more dangerous. 

He turned his head to the side, the door to the bathroom falling into view. The crazed clown's eyes dazzled as he focused on the door to where Star had gone. A laugh played on his face, his beety eyes focused as he rolled off the bed toward the closed door. 

* * *

Star switched off the steamy water, having washed the grim off from being on those dusty side roads. She stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in the terry-robe before noticing how quiet it was. There wasn't even hysteric laughter bouncing around the motel walls. The new villain wasn't really sure if that was a good or bad thing. She honestly didn't know all that much about how the Joker worked. The only read up she had done on the Clown Prince of Crime told of his psychotic behaviour, and that really didn't say much. But that wasn't why she had picked him, she was attracted to their shared hatred. Although, she did take the lack of screaming as a good sign and proceeded to run the towel over her wet brown and purple hair. 

Still, the lack of noise made her uneasy. Biting her bottom lip she opened the bathroom door slowly. 

"Forget your rubber ducky?" the Joker stood right on the other side of the door, that look in his eyes and twisted grin. 

Before the girl could react to the bizarre question he sprang; slamming her back against the wall.

Her head spun from the pain in her back and having the wind knocked completely from her body. All un-expectantly. 

In Star's state of awe and daze she couldn't fight off when he pinned her against the tacky wallpaper with his lean body. 

She felt panic in the back of her mind – the small part that was still Sara fighting for existence but too scared to push forward. No man had been this close to her since that night and Billy Young. She was about to freeze feeling the rumble of a laugh start in his chest and the hot breath spill across her face. But Star was too strong to allow that. She wouldn't be taken advantage of again. And she admittedly found the situation stimulating and exciting. Mentally pushing Sara to the back of her mind Star took full control. Star was there to protect Sara, and since she was there why not have some fun? She enjoyed being dominant in this body, finally. 

Star's eyes flashed with dark light as she pushed back against the man in front of her. Hooking her one leg around the back of his knees, she toppled them down to the floor. Her still damp body landing squarely on his. 

The Clown giggled – not one of joy but a dark amusement. "Forceful aren't we?" he glared up at the figure straddling his chest. 

She leaned forward, leaning her arms across his chest, "Can be." Her pink mouth hovered over his ruby lips, a slight anticipation in their quiver and urgency in the grind of her hips. 

His emerald eyes widened and his mouth twitched. His powder white hands grasped her hips, and his lithe body managed to flip her over in a sounding groan as her back hit the floor. He was now in the position of power with her shoulders pinned under his hands. 

"I don't like that," with a raw force, of boredom or superiority or desire, it wasn't clear, he crushed her mouth with his. 

The animalistic kiss of crushing lips and probing tongue was not easy. Star fought back with the same fierce power. Her own lips and tongue pushing against his. A moist-muscled war. 

A slow moan escaped the clown as he pulled back to breathe. He panted. 

"Well, maybe I do," Star smiled in a twisted style as she fought for her own breath. 

The Joker smirked and let free a giggle – a thick, throaty laugh versus the light hearted insanity. He dove in again, forcing the wet, slick flesh back into her mouth. The muscle raked against her teeth, a copper tang touched both of them, but neither pulled away. 

She dragged her hands up his sides, pulling the vibrant blue shirt from his purple pants. The strange colour combination making her own skin appear sickly pale. She began clawing at his sides, catching flesh with fabric. Small red lines marked his pale skin in her wake. 

With a sudden force, Joker pushed her back against the floor, growling at the women beneath him. Then with gentle caution he undid his own shirt and carefully removed it. He treated the article of clothing like a priceless relic. The flippant changing in her personality was unsettling. 

Star squirmed in her position pinned between his thighs, not liking the garment appreciation break. She huffed in frustration. 

He clenched his legs, tightening the hold on her as the silk shirt was laid over on the floor. The wicked smile on his face was new, hungry. Quickly the terrycloth sash was removed, exposing the new villain to the clown. 

In a haze, the Joker's eyes scanned over the naked flesh, followed by his hands. The pale hands began feeling out her soft, flushed flesh – white valleys and rosy mounds. 

Her body went ridged for the split second before he licked the small space between her breasts. She melted into a moan. 

It turned out the jester had far more tricks up his sleeves than originally suspected. He kissed and licked her skin, working his way down her squirming body. Tiny red bites and bruised skin marked the trail his mouth had taken. Turning the woman beneath him into a moaning mass. But he had yet to reach his apex. 

Star's eyes shot open feeling a gust of hot breath across her bare thigh. She grabbed a handful of emerald curls, pulling his head up. She didn't trust that twisted grin between her legs. 

"No tasting the wares Simple Simon," she panted. 

The Joker began giggling uncontrollably at the mention of the nursery rhyme, falling backwards as the fit over took him. 

Catching her breath, Star slowly pulled herself into sitting position to watch the lunacy. She rolled her eyes at the scene; the half-naked clown rolling back in laughter. Then, with the same suddenness that he had used on her, she pounced on him, pinning his body with hers. 

"Are we going to continue?" her voice was throaty as she spoke over his mouth. "Don't make me get the rubber chicken," She warned, reaching down to grab his member through the purple pants. 

He hissed at the tightening pressure, reacting the only way his body knew how. His hips bucked and she smiled with satisfaction. His excitement was evident from the hardened flesh still clamped in her hands. 

Her tongue snaked out of her swollen mouth and ran along his throat. Another moan rumbled out of his mouth. Her death grip was relentless; her hand was like a vice to gain control over the man under her, squeezing and releasing at the right pressures. 

"Enough!" he almost yelped, pushing Star off of him to make quick work of his pants. The purple slacks didn't receive the same sweet attention as the shirt had. The fly was quickly, yet carefully, opened and he squirmed out of the legs to be free, kicking the offending garment out of his way. 

Star laughed as she watched the Joker struggle out of the last casing of his clothing. Squirming about on the floor like he was caught in a finger trap. 

He glared at her, his breathing uneasy and, as only she could hear, his thoughts centred on one thing. He flew across the distance between them and tackled her. With no warning or hesitation he pushed deep inside of her as he landed. 

She cried out as the Clown filled her folds, an unapologetic motion. It was fast and full and forceful. A fight, as she clawed against him with every movement. 

Anyone listening would find the mix of breathing and laughter filtering out of the room strange. In fact, to the woman involved, the act was strange. A game of power, more than any intimate relation. A time to see who's hand held what. 


	6. Twice Shy

****

Title: _Twice Shy_

Chapter Completed: May 19, 2004

"Bruce I need you're help. Bruce, on the Joker escape, I could use a little help. Bruce, I…" Barbara sighed. She couldn't find the right way to ask for help and admit that she was stuck. She had been practising for the whole drive from her apartment to Wayne Manner and was no where closer to a solution, even if she had just pulled into the circular driveway. She let out a long sigh and rested her head against the steering wheel. This was going to be tough, a blow to her pride, but had to be done.

Taking a deep breath Barbara pushed herself out of the car and up to the massive mansion doors. Ringing the bell to announce her arrival.

She waited with apprehension before the visitor's call was answered.

"Miss Gordon," Alfred Pennyworth, the fatally loyal Wayne butler and keeper of secrets, greeted as he opened the door.

"Alfred," she smiled at the elderly man as he let her in, "Is Bruce around?" she casually cast her eyes around the grand entry hall.

"Yes. Masters Bruce and Dick are _downstairs_," he gave her an apprehensive glance, "I expected you to be there with them."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"They are going over the Arkham escape," the butler continued, he always had a way of knowing everything that went on under this roof. But of course that was his job.

"Are they now," Barbara fought to keep her angry in check: She felt hurt and betrayed. She huffed a hot breath, careful not to attack the messenger, "Guess I'll go see them…" She turned quickly on her heels to the silver closet-Batcave door.

Alfred dutifully nodded, but a small smile struggled on his face. Sometimes Master Bruce needed to bare the blunt of his indiscretions.

Barbara snuck down the stone path into the Batcave, although even if she had made a big fuss about her entry the pair of men wouldn't have noticed. They were engrossed by the large computer screens, each one plastered with dossiers on the Joker and one of Sara 'Star' Adams. The Joker's criminal profile was splattered across the oversized computer screens like his ruby smile on his pale face. It began with his infamous plunge into an acid bath and ended with his latest incarceration into Arkham. A path lined with murder, robbery and insane laughter. The Clown Prince's career was pilled out, but all those in attendance knew the story by heart.

On the other screen was the smaller and far more obscure life of Sara Adams in a small collection of newspaper articles and medical files. The vast abilities of the Batman had even managed to gain access to school transcripts and the name of her childhood pet – as if that had any baring on her springing the Joker from the asylum. But two things were highlighted for reference; the night Billy attacked her and the 'accidental' deaths of Deceptive Allen and Billy Young.

Barbara's eyes widened, they were covering her case without her. They didn't think she could do it.

"There's obviously a deranged tendency in her character," Bruce spoke to Dick, carefully pointing out lines in her metal evaluations from the confidential files. He spoke with authority as his student nodded along. "She is drawn to men who give off an air of deranged power. Which is why she has connected herself to the Joker of all the inmates."

Barbara felt her blood boil, how quickly he labelled Sara without ever knowing her pain, or having spoken to that scared girl on the roof.

__

Sara stood in front of her, eerily clam for a woman who just stepped off the literal edge. "Don't you hate it? The way these men take you and use you anyway they see fit? To hell with what she_ thinks or feels. It's for your own good he says, trust him he says. After all he has the power, he's the man. He can use you anyway he sees fit." She stared at her with a strange knowing, like she could see everything that was inside of Barbara's head, "And what does the Batman do to you?"_

"She also has delusions about all men using her," Bruce continued, "as a result of her rape she sees all men as Billy Young's. And for this reason she doesn't trust men."

"I wouldn't call _that_ a delusion," Barbara spoke up from her place in the shadows, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, "I'd say that is dead on!"

"Barbara?" Bruce looked at her with a flash of surprise as if she had no place there at all.

"Sorry to crash you're little party," she couldn't hide the hurt tone of her voice. She was angry and hurt at the same moment: raging now with the things Sara had said to her spinning in her head.

Dick looked nervously between his two partners in crime fighting. He could feel the animosity growing between the two at that moment, and usually the problem was between him and Bruce.

"Babs," he plastered a smile on his face, moving to greet her.

She acknowledged him with a curt nod but moved away from his touch, "What are you two doing?"

"Going over the players in the Arkham escape," Bruce replied in his best Batman voice.

"Without me," She glared back at him, "You know I was called in for this."

"Thought you could use the help," he turned back to the Batcomputer, intending on going back to analysis.

"Help?" She snapped, "You've cut me out! Tell the truth Bruce, you don't think I can do this."

"You're right," he turned sharply to face her, "I don't think you can do this alone. The Joker is dangerous and this _Star_ is unstable. You need the help!"

"You call THIS help?!"

"You're too close to this, you're the one that sighed Sara into the psychiatric hospital in the first place without telling me. You're just lucky I haven't forbidden you from this all together," by now Dick's presence was all but forgotten by both the Bats.

"You really do think I'm just some girl! Poor and helpless and incapable," she spat at him. "You can't just do anything you want to me, you know!"

Bruce just stared at her, surprised at the outburst from the usually level-headed member of the team.

"I'll prove it to you," she continued calmly, "I want you to stay away from me and this Arkham escape. If I even see you on it…" She let the threat hang there and turned away from him, storming out of the cave.

Bruce just stared off in the direction she went. "I want you to follow her," he finally acknowledged Dick was there.

"But she doesn't want anyone too…" he pathetically replied.

"Then don't let her see you…" he replied turning to face the other member of his team to convey the seriousness of his order, "It'll be a good time to practise your sleuthing."

xxx

Barbara sat heavily in her car, emotionally drained. But she was going to show him, prove herself. She was going to prove to him that they were different than he thought, both herself and Sara. There was more to all this than some computer files gathered through mediocre hacking.

She let out another cleansing sigh and started the car, she had a lot of tracking to do and no clue where to start.

Barbara was so involved in the inner workings of her mind that she didn't see the moving shadow creep from the mansion after her.


	7. Hide and Seek

****

Title: _Hide and Seek_

Chapter Completed: June 22, 2004

__

The footsteps grew louder and faster, following her, stalking her like prey. The faster she ran the faster and harder the steps followed.

She was trapped – the alley twisted and turned like a maze, cornering her like a mouse for a wild predator.

He pounced – breaking from the shadows and engulfing her. He leaped at her, pining her screaming and squirming body to the cold, hard wall.

His hands clawed at her, groping at her clothes and body alike. Covering her as if he had every right to, touching every inch of her as if he owned her. After all, he was a man.

She struggled and cried out, but nobody came, no one would hear her. No one would ever help her.

The walls began moving, to cage her, to keep her. A brick cell rose high above her head, trapping her with the shadowed man. Her screams bounced around the brick surrounding her and her panic filled her. There was really no way out of this. There was no way for her to break free. She was trapped.

She closed her eyes tightly, pressing the lids down hard enough to see spots as she screamed, in a blood curdling tone, "STOP!"

And in another instant, as if the scream itself had forced the event, she was hanging from a rooftop. The shadowed man dangling her off the edge, as if he had pushed her off and put her in this peril, but tentatively held on to her by the wrist. The man held her life in his hands and threatened to let go at any moment.

Feeling weak and helpless under this male's power, she pleaded for her safety. Begging and pleading and crying.

The dark shadow shook his head, loosening the hold on one wrist. The action caused her to slip, the possibility of death becoming more certain.

"Please…PLEASE…" her voice pathetic and cracking.

The shadow just loosened his hold again, letting her wrists slip through his fingers. And a dark, deep laugh filled the air, attacking her

She felt yet another man do as he pleased with her, and she wasn't fighting back. She was just taking it, letting him use her.

"Never again," she bellowed, and again their positions changed with the will of her words. Now she was standing safely on the roof's top, watching the shadow dangle off the edge. She was now the one in power. She was the one in control. She had taken back the role and now she was the one who held life in her tentative grasp.

"How do you like being the weak one?" the question came, but all she could hear was her own desperate cries for help.

Star sat upright, her breathing heavy and skin slicked with sweat as if she had just lived the dream. She scanned the room for any familiar clue as to where she was, but there on the motel floor all she saw was the discarded robe by one of the beds. She pulled it tightly around herself, trying to trap security around her body, to protect herself.  
She rose to her knees. From her new vantage point she saw the lanky clown form draped across one bed and the present flooded back into her mind with a tidal force.

She was now Star.

She freed the Joker from Arkham.

She spent a carnal night with the clown.

A familiar bile rose to her throat, the sickening fear of men. Had she really let another one touch her? Have her?

Sara was scared in the dark room, alone with the strange and violent man. And a sudden panic over took her.

Sara needed to reach out to someone, someone who understood her. And there was only one person that came to mind.

She reached for the phone atop the small side table and dialled the semi-familiar number, even if Star would view it as a whole other weakness.

"Hello?" a groggy voice answered from the other end of the telephone connection.

"Barbara?" Sara's voice was quiet and careful.

"Yes, who is thi—" Barbara was groggy on the other end of the phone, blindly reaching out to check the time when the recognition hit her, "Sara? Is that you?"

"Honoured you remembered me Babs," came a nervous laugh.

The other woman sat up quickly in bed, the surge of duty running through her veins, but a nagging need to be a friend blocked it. "Of course I remember you Sara," fighting to sound natural she continued, "Where are you?"

Another nervous laugh followed, "Can't exactly tell you that, it ruins the game," she waited a beat, "But I do want to talk."

"Talking is good," she replied, quickly getting out of bed to retrieve the equipment that she needed to trace the call. One way or another Sara was going to tell her where she was. Reaching for the laptop and typing through the codes known by heart, she continued with the conversation, "What did you want to talk about Sara?"

"Well, I'm not really interested in the weather," she gave a quick, curt reply and just as quickly changed gears, "I had a nightmare…"

The sad sound of her voice hit Barbara, "What kind of nightmare?"

"He stills has me…he can still hold me. He can still get me anytime he wants to…and I think he will," she choked back a lump that formed in her throat.

"Who? Who Sara?" a panic of emotion took over Barbara, forcing her to stop in her typing and give her full attention to the woman on the phone.

"You know who…all of them, any of them. Star killed two of them, and now…" her voice trailed off, the broken statements trailing off.

"Are you talking about Billy? Are you afraid of him…Sara he's not going to hurt you," she made an attempt at comfort. An attempt that she really didn't know how to fulfil.

"It's not just Billy!" She snapped, "It's all of them! And you know it! You know it Barbara! You know what the Batman does to you, how he uses you…how they all use you, us. They have to be stopped."

Barbara swallowed hard, clearing her head to start tracing again, "Wha…what happened tonight Sara? What happened to you?"

She replied with a soft snicker, "What happened to me? What happened to ME? They did! They happened, they touch and take and use…and I let them…You let them" Tears started to fall from her eyes, unnoticed. They were frustration, fear and anger rolling down her cheeks.

Barbara was silent. There wasn't anything she could say. They both sat there, the phones cradled between their matching shoulders and ears, mirroring each other with a city between them.

The computer binged, a number and trace came up on the screen. She knew where she was.

"Sara…Sara I can come and get you, help you," she offered softly.

"…You never helped before…" and with that Sara hung up the receiver. It was time for Star to take over again; Sara couldn't do it anymore right now. And with that Star sat staring off at nothing, taking the time to become calm and relaxed.

Careful not to waste too much time, Star rose from her spot on the floor and went over to the bed where the Joker lay, sprawled out.

Reaching out carefully, she shoved his shoulder, "Hey, Clown-man."

The pale man snorted and jumped at the sudden interruption to his sleep, "Huh...what…What the hell?" When he finally focused on what was going on, "What the hell do you want?" he snapped, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

"We have to get out of here _darlin'_," her snide tone dripped off her words like honey as she ripped the sheet from his body, "Or we'll have bats in the belfry."

That got his attention, he sat upright instantly, "Bats," he growled at the words.

"Do you have anywhere else we can go?" she posed the question, throwing clothes in his general direction and gathering up her own in the process.

"Bats," he muttered again, a rage filling him as he puled on his clothes. In the same fluid motion checked on the availability of deadly cards and smilex daisies.

"No," she grabbed his arm, with a deadly serious stare in her eyes, "I have not put this much effort into this to have you go messing it up. The Bat will pay, just not jet."

The ruby lips danced with their twisted grin. The girl did have a sadistic edge that he found amusing, and for that reason – and the game itself, he agreed, replacing the cards in their hidden pocket.

"Good," she spoke with an urgency, "Get the car and get us to some place else." The statement came almost as an order.

"Got just the place girlie," The clown laughed, pulling the partner in crime out the door and into the cool dawn air.


	8. Ready or Not

****

Title: _Ready or Not_

Chapter Completed: July 16, 2004

Barbara knew someone was following her. She even knew who, but at that moment the destination was more important. There was still a slight chance that she could get there in time and put an end to this ordeal. And there was also the chance that she was already too late.

Speeding across the city she worried if she should have taken the time to dawn the cape and cowl. It was a double edged sword; risk being unmasked to the Joker or risk not making it there in time to catch them. But every aspect of her life was like that; making unfathomable decisions that could change everything, better or worse. She just had to hope, that this time, she had made the right choice, and everything would work out. A faith that she never really believed in.

The city and scenery flew by her and her motorcycle in a blur – pushing the speed limit and the capabilities of her cycle she still knew it would be a close call. And it nagged at her. It gave light to her doubts and fears. And still he followed her, the dull roar of his matching cycle echoing in her head, reminding her. Did he really think she was incapable of doing this – after she said she could? Where was his faith? Did he really only see her as some girl, some helpless girl? That's all she could feel. The wind hit her exposed skin of her cheeks, but it felt like distrust. HE had sent him to watch her, make sure she didn't screw up, protect the little female. HE could lie to her face, tell it she was a part of the team, but never trust her. And when HE needed her, for the few things she was seen as capable of, she had better go running and disappear just as fast. Go to her master and be cast off.

The more she thought, the deeper Sara's words rooted themselves into her head. And the deeper they went, the angrier she grew. She gunned the engine harder, forcing the machine on. The rumble did nothing to take Sara's true words from her memory.

Barbara never saw the dark haired woman as Star, and hopefully never would, for the memories and images she had of her were of Sara – the confused and broken, yet wise and sure woman of the rooftop.

__

"Don't worry," she spoke in a soothing voice, slowly creeping closer, "I won't tell them your secrets, any of those secrets." She was only inches away, her eyes sympathetic and hand gently caressing what was exposed of the other woman's face. Sara's eyes borrowed into Barbara. The two of them shared something, something few others could understand.

Her face was only inches away from hers, her hand gently stroking the exposed and chills skin of the superhero's cheek, "No, I won't tell them your secrets, our secrets."

Her breath caught in her chest as Barbara fought for a clearing thought to enter her head, something to push away the haze. This whole situation was too emotionally intense, she was loosing her grip as Batgirl and falling into the insecure and unsure life of Barbara Gordon.

"Please…" was the only word that squeezed itself out of her throat, she wasn't even sure what the plea or request was addressing. It was an attempt at gripping on to something.

But the ghost of a smile that graced Sara's mouth suggested that she knew what Barbara didn't about herself. The mystery girl brought her face in closer, her hot breath spilling across the Superhero's, "I understand you."

As the words captured Barbara's mind, lips captured her mouth. Soft, but forceful enough to leave no question of intent. Neither did the hand creeping around her neck, pulling the two mouths closer together. Their lips remained press together in the soft and timid tasting without one invading the other. The only bodily contact they shared was from through the swelling lips and single hand on the back on Barbara's neck.

Even with the testing nature of the kiss, when Sara pulled back Barbara was breathless. The kiss wasn't passionate, it was emotional – nothing that the night-time crime-fighter had ever experienced. It shook, surprised and thrilled her, as well as placed a reawakened question in the back of her mind.

Sara on the other hand seemed contented by this. The panicked rage that had filled her eyes, and twisted her face had felted away. She was calmed and almost reserved.

"You can take me away now," the girl offered her wrists like a convicted up to the shell-shocked Barbara.

Batgirl gave her head a quick shake to clear the memory from her head, but her lips burned as if the haunting moment had just happened. Maybe they were right, maybe she was too close to this one to think clearly for the fait of Gotham.

With the dark cloud of doubt cast over her, she pulled her cycle into the gravel parking lot of the motel, surveying the flat piece of property. There was no sign that Sara or the Joker were there, or had ever been. The placed looked normal and undisturbed. She had failed to get there on time.

Unwilling to concede defeat, she climbed off the bike to give the place a once over, ignoring the sound of Robin's cycle pulling up behind her. She was running on determination, pure and simple.

Quickly she made her way around the building's structure in search of the most secluded, and therefore logical, room for the pair to have occupied. A hopeful feeling rose in the young superhero; she just knew that this was the room they had shared. But upon opening the unlocked door to cabin twelve all that was left of the pervious occupants was a rumbled bed and a discarded robe.

"Damn it," she shrieked, kicking at the door with all her strength and frustration.

"Whoa, what the door ever do to you?" Robin's voice entered the room, he had finally caught up to her.

Turning sharply she sneered, "Don't you even start!"

To say that he was surprised by his partner's outburst was an understatement, but when he opened his mouth to speak again she continued.

"Where do you get off following me around?" her eyes were blaring with many things: doubts, fears and anger. "No, let me guess, HE told you to?"

Neither one of them needed to clarify who HE was. Batman was the proverbial he where they were concerned.

But again when he opened his mouth to speak she jumped in, "Don't bother to deny it. I know he doesn't think I can do this, never thought I could."

"Babs that's not why," he quickly spoke up before she had a chance to silence him, "He, we just thought you needed a little help. We were worried."

Batgirl laughed dryly, feeling nothing like her custom, "You both don't think I can do this." It wasn't a question, and wasn't delivered as an accusation, more like a simple fact. She continued her rant, "You think I'm just some stupid girl that you can use and lie to and toss aside. That's all you keep doing. That's all HE does, and all you're doing, you help him do it."

"Babs," he cautiously stepped closer to her, "that's not –"

"Stay away from me!" she jumped back, she was unsure of all that was flowing through her, but didn't need anything else clouding her. So many things were twirling in her head: Sara's words, her doubts, and the need to put this case behind her.

Robin was far more confused, his eyes turned hurt by her rejection. And worried by the turmoil in the female superhero's eyes. "Please…tell me what's really going on here," he was careful to be soft and gentle with his voice, again trying to get closer to her.

She took some time, silently shaking her head with her eyes tightly closed before chancing the look at him, "You couldn't understand. Few can understand…" She let her reply hang between them, but her mind had turned over to another thought. There was only one other person she could think of who would understand what both Sara and herself…

As Robin tried, again, to connect with the lost member of their trio when the motel's owner appeared at the room.

"Can I help you all?" his face was anything but friendly when he would the two costumed people standing in one of his rooms.

Even by dismissing the innkeeper, when Robin turned back the struggling Barbara/Batgirl had disappeared. Leaving the confused superhero with questions of his own.


	9. Here I Come

****

Title: _Here I Come_

Chapter Completed: December 1, 2004

"Who's the chickadee?" The Penguin squawked as the Joker and Star entered The Full Deck night-club in an assault of purple and black.

"Oswald you old dog," The Joker pushed in brazenly toward the portly man, snatching up his hand to shake it, against all objections. "How the hell are ya?" The smaller man bobbed up and down with the force of his enthusiasm.

"What in good heavens do you want you grinning fool?" The Penguin finally managed to pull his arm away from the mad clown, straightening his appearance but keeping a watchful eye on the Clown.

"We're just seeking shelter," abruptly he grabbed Star by the waist, pulling her to his side. He was putting on the classic theatrics: batting his eyes and forcing a form of a pout to his lips. "You wouldn't turn away two weary and needy travellers, now would you?"

A sharp smile appeared on the birdman's mouth, "She just sprung you from Arkham and you need help already." The details of the escape flooded through out the underground, embellished by amusing details and the extra twists the criminal world had put on it. The girl had been a mystery, varying from more crazy doctors to pathetic groupies.

The Joker dropped Star with a graceless thud, his face contorting into a sneer, "Listen Bird, we need a place to lay-low is all. Wait things out."

"Well, as everyone very well knows, I am no longer in the villain racket," Oswald Copplepotts dusted imaginary lint off his shoulder, ignoring the roll of the Joker's emerald eyes. "But of course, if you were willing to pull your own weight, something can be arranged in the area of lodgings."

He let out a loud and long sigh, but was bound to agree.

Pleased with himself, the Penguin turned back to the young woman pulling herself up off the floor, where the other had dropped her. "And just who is this pair of…legs taking Harley's place, hmmm?"

A low growl came from the clown, but Star stepped forward, her body towering over his stout one, "Star." Her introduction was curt and cold, taking the silent moment to read that this birdman was no different from anyone else. Everyone underestimated her. Assumed she was just some girl, some crazed girl raging through life. They were wrong to underestimate her…and only part right on the rest.

The villain turned entrepreneur simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed and even bored.

"She's the key to _paying_ our share," the Joker stepped up again, his mind randomly skipping over the Harley cracks, "'member the Hatter? Well she can do all that without the silly hats," He wiggled his fingers toward his head.

"hmm," an interested sound came as reply, "I'll need proof of course."

"But of course," the clown agreed, a twinkle in his eyes and a purely showmen-ship bow, "Star…if you please."

The girl fought a moment of shyness; she was, after all, proud of her ability. Star fed that. Star liked to show off, prove that power that ran through her. Prove that she was more powerful than them and would never fall victim again. Make them beg and bend to her will for a change. But Sara was always shy and unsure. And for a moment the two pulled back and forth for master control.

Her lips twisted into a dark grin, Star forging forward, "I'm gonna need as assistant."

The bird cocked an eyebrow, but granted the request. He summoned one of his many unofficial henchmen to their little grouping.

A large man dressed from head to town in black stalked over to her boss. Ever loyal and obedient, and obviously dim-witted. The classic characteristics of a good and proper fall guy.

"Yah Pen-gin," he droned on.

"Tweet, the young lady would like your assistance," he replied with an amused smirk, motioning with the flip of his hand to Star.

Tweet looked her over in a way that made Sara uncomfortable in her own skin, but only fuelled Star.

"Right there is fine," she told him, holding up a hand to stop him when he made a move closer. "I need you to do me a little favour," her voice went into the sweet sing-song that she had mastered in her two years away, "Kill the birdman," the music left her mouth as the deadly order was given, "Strangle him."

Tweet nodded, turning on the order. He took the few large steps over to the short and stout employer, picking up the round body by its chubby neck. He began squeezing once the Penguin's feet were suspended above the ground.

Oswald began kicking and struggling against the iron grip. His gloved hands desperately trying to claw at the hands squeezing his neck. Choking out his breath, and life.

The Joker laughed at the show. Falling into his twisted giggles, clapping like a trained seal as he skipped and danced around the interlocked pair.

For her part, Star smiled at her achievement. The display of her raw power and vast potential gave her the much-needed rush. It made her feel powerful and strong. It never creased to amaze her what men could be made to do.

"Plea-sssh…st..st…st-oop," came the gurgled plea from the blue turning face.

"Tweet," she began slowly, dragging it out, "You can stop now. Release him."

As soon as she said it, the Penguin was dropped to the floor and a dazed look veiled the thug's face.

The middle aged mobster sputtered from his place on the floor, struggling to fill his lungs with oxygen and pull himself together.

The cackling clown crouched down in front of the other villain, "convinced?"

His face was red and puffy, his eyes searching between the pair before him. He simply nodded.

"Splendid," the clown jumped up to his feet, pulling the golden child close to him, "Just show us to our room…"

"Wait," a haggard voice spoke up, the round body struggling to its feet and fighting off the attempted aide of Tweet, "…payment." The usually cultured Oswald was reduced to broken English.

Star and the Joker turned back to him, their lack of patience clearly expressed.

Taking a few more deep breaths the Penguin continued, staring directly at Star with a greedy hunger in his eyes and a cautious smile on his lips, "We have a date…with a bank or two."


	10. Tag

Title: _Tag  
_Chapter Completed: December 17, 2004

It had tuned into a week of the same. A cycle that Sara and Star were trapped by. The Penguin and the Joker were using Star's skill for financial gain, so much so that her ultimate goal had been derailed. She spent all her time catering to their greed. The bank robberies were child's play; she had much more important matters to attend to. Much greater evils she had to right.

"But you do owe for staying here," Sara piped in, justifying the turn their life had taken, the turn they were trapped in.

Star scoffed, "That debt has been long paid!" She never understood how Sara could just keep letting them use her, how Sara could just lie there and take it, without scratching and fighting back. She wasn't going to stand for it, not now that she was there, living and breathing in their body; "I am not going to let them keep using us. They will NOT make you a victim again. I won't let that happen!" Star rode the rage freely.

"I know," Sara's voice became quieter, "I'm thankful for that. I'm glad that I have you."

"And you'll always have me," Star smiled, obviously a smile that Sara could not see, "You've always had me, just never let me out." The resentment was clear, the dominate personality angry with being kept at bay for years before.

"We have to get back on track here…we have to start making them all pay," it was one of their few, shared thoughts. One of the moments when both agreed, and no one voice coloured the comment. One of her rational thoughts?

"Make them all pay? I think someone's a little loony-toons," The Joker sing-songed, catching the last part of her conversation with herself, "Talking to yourself is never a good sign." He mocked her with a serious tone.

Star turned at him, sharply, "And what are you, the authority on the subject?"

He giggled at her, the answer in the twisted laugh.

"Why don't we just play nice," his ruby lips twisted in their dark grin, stalking her around the space. Obstacles lined the night-club layout.

"Maybe I don't want to play nice!" She backed herself into one of the club's pillars, giving him a chance to catch her by planting his arms on either side of her frame.

A pink tongue darted out to lick the twisted smile, "That could work too…"

"Don't be picking on the girl," Selena Kyle strolled into the club, breaking up the little pairing, hips swaying like she had every right to be there.

He jumped back, turning to face the newest member of the rogue gallery to appear. "Here Kitty kitty," The Joker rubbed his finger and thumb together like calling a cat.

She turned to him and hissed, "I'm here for the bird."

"Someone wants her ears scratched," he continued to tease her as he backed away, he knew better but couldn't help himself, "or maybe a nice rubber mouse…"

"Hate that clown," she snarled, obviously feeling dirty for being there in the first place. But she and Oswald had business.

"An acquired taste?" Star offered.

Selena smirked, "That could be said for all of us, couldn't it dear?"

The girl felt shy under the honest gaze that was fixed on her, and gave a half shrug.

"Nice scar," Selena pointed, un-apologetically to the space of exposed skin peeking out from the girl's costume, the star shaped scar was still visible in its swollen and red mess.

Unconsciously she raised a hand to cover it, "Parting gift from the man who made me what I am today." Her voice tinged with both pain and hatred in its attempt to stay even.

"Never give a man credit for who you are," Selena snapped, "They may have pushed you to bring out that side of you, but it is all you."

"Is it?" Star questioned back, "How do you know which personality is right, which one do you listen to?"

"I can't tell you that, it's a lesson that's different for all of us." Her face clouded, "And some of us are still trying to figure that all out." There were many that she could be speaking of Bats, villains and herself.

"Does anyone ever figure it out?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

She gave a humourless laugh, "We can hope, can't we?"

"Selena darling," Oswald waddled in, "How nice of you to visit…"

"This isn't personal Os, it's business," she held up her hand to stop his advancements, "I believe you owe me?"

The short man nervously darted his eyes between Selena and Star, settling back on the Catwoman, "Have you met the little dear?" he motioned his head toward the odd one out, not sure if their _business_ should be discussed in front of newcomers.

"Quit stalling," Selena never turned her attention away from the man, holding her hand out.

He grumbled to himself, reaching inside of his jacket to retrieve a brown-paper envelope. With an unceremonious thud, he slapped it into her waiting hand, eyes narrowing.

"Pleasure doing business," she offered him a fake smile as she curled her fingers around the coveted object. "You can't give them credit for anything," she winked at Star before exiting, the same sway to her hips as before.

Star smiled. Was it possible she had just met a success story? Another who had achieved in breaking and rising above the men that littered her life?

TBC


	11. You're It

****

Title: _You're It_

Chapter Completed: January 25, 2005

Soft smooth skin; silky, pliable and fragrant. It assaulted her senses. The soft flesh moved under her hands. The long black hair castigated around her face and tickled the sensitised and flushed flesh. Light and careful touches, long lean fingers tracing out the exposed skin.

New moans captured by full lips, already kiss-swollen, pulled in by twisting pink tongues. The hot burn of cinnamon gum.

Red polished fingernails scrapping pert, rose nipples. Their hands kneading tight breasts.

"Sss-Cindy," she hissed, writhing under the other girl's exploratory, and expert, touch.

"You know you're beautiful all flushed like this," she cooed, leaning in again with her cinnamon tongue and lips.

Barbara threw her head back and gasped, her whole body alive and tingling, "Oh!" she gasped again feeling her friend, and now lover's fingers brush between her thighs.

The other girl giggled in an almost purr, and bite her lip before pushing her finger into the slick folds of her junction.

Barbara moaned, arching her back off the bed but finding no fulfilment, no sensation outside of her own burning ache. Slowly she opened her eyes; she was alone in her bed, and not her old college dorm either. The dark emptiness of her Gotham apartment greeted her.

It was a dream. A long ignored memory.

She had long since put her hidden college life behind her, opting that she would only live one double life. You can't be three different people at one given time. She was already the perfect daughter and becoming the rogue vigilante – adding experimental sexuality just wouldn't work. It wasn't an option. The perfect daughter by day balanced the vigilante by night, anything more or less would ruin her – or at least that's how she saw it.

Shaking her head to clear the dream, and the memory of Cindy from her mind, she dragged herself out of bed. The problem, one woman replaced the other.

Sara.

The quick and chaste kiss on the rooftop. A cliché in itself for epic romances, but this was anything but a romance. By definition they were enemies, polar opposites – but when it came down to it they were more similar than she would like to admit. They were both trapped women, both fighting against two personas. Both Poison Ivy and Harley had deserted Pamela Isley and Dr. Harlene Quinzelle, long ago – no longer faced the torment of living both lives. There were few who knew what balancing personalities was like, what living two lives was like, what fighting to stay these two people was like. Even fewer who knew what it was like for a woman to keep fighting. There was her and she still hoped Sara and …Selena Kyle.

An idea dawned on her. If one person had in insight on Sara, it would be Selena.

Before her mind caught up, she was already pulling on the purple spandex. Only to feel the least like Batgirl in her life.

Selena walked down the dark streets, her hips still swinging as if she had every right in the world – a characteristic that Catwoman had taught her. A confidence and power that she first found when she, ironically, squeezed her hips into a tight fitting uni-tard.

"I can tell you're following me," she seemed to say into the empty darkness, "You might as well just come out."

As if on the invitation, Barbara as Batgirl, came out of the shadows.

"Don't worry, you're not getting sloppy, I've just learned how to hear your kind," Selena gave a cat like smile. A mention of her on-again-off-again relationship or just her pervious criminal career it wasn't clear.

"I wasn't really trying," Barbara became defensive, ignoring the neat laugh given in reply, "I need you're help."

"I doubted this was social," she hadn't stopped walking, "If you could make it fast…it wouldn't look good to keep your company, especially in that get-up"

"Right," she fell in step with the other woman, "I need advice, insight, on Sara Adams…Star…"

Selena smiled again, "Sweet girl. Confused, and in over her head, but sweet."

"You've met her?" she grabbed the older woman's arm, forcing her to stop, "What did you say to her?"

"Now now, resorting to brutality are we?" Selena stared at the fingers grasped around her elbow.

Barbara looked between her own desperate grasp and Selena's eyes before releasing her, "Sorry."

"Yes…well," she took her time now, eyeing the other woman, sizing her up and trying to figure out just what was going on. _Why wasn't she talked to the other member's of her hero family?_

Barbara let out a defeated breath, feeling trapped in her costume for the first time, "I need help with Sara…Star."

"Can't help you," she gave a wicked smile, "I already helped her. Gave her the little words of wisdom I wish someone had shared with me…"

She worried her brow. Various versions of their possible conversation went through her mind, each more damaging than the last. A slight panic grew in her. Selena could have given her a push in any direction, a last push off the edge she was teetering on.

"Oh relax," Selena rolled her eyes, "My how high strung you are," she gave her a waning eye, scrutinising her, "Taking this personally. Something else worrying you?"

In reflex she narrowed her eyes, "No. Just her."

"Ah," Selena nodded, still watching the other woman carefully. She had long since learned how to read the human part of these heroes, "Well then. She wanted to know which one of her personalities was really and truly her," There was a mocking tone laced in the words. Barbara was far more interested in the words themselves, rather than their tone; her face was one of shock and interest. "And of course," she continued, "that's an answer that's always different for all of us."

A moment of quiet understanding settles over them. It was a universal statement really, who didn't have two sides to themselves, but it spoke directly to them especially. The two of them, standing on a street; one dressed in an elaborate guise to hide who they are, the other wearing an invisible mask to hide their dark side.

Selena cleared her throat to break the silence, and the odd feeling of bonding, "She did seem bent on blaming a man for her _split_. That is going to get her in way. Isn't vengeance a nasty torn in your side?" Her voice hissed out, "Or is that a demented sense of duty?"

Barbara's attention snapped back to the woman in front of her, a curious look in her eyes. Questioning without words.

"We're all the same aren't we? So willing to give the credit to some man, doing it to please or appease someone else," she was cryptically reflective, "Like I said, in over her head. Might just loose that sweet girl for good." Selena began walking away now, sure that her presence was no longer needed, but tossed over her shoulder, "Do you think we all failed her?" before continuing on her way.

Barbara thought for a moment. Failed her? There were clues in what Selena had told her, even with the snarled voice and obvious dislike of each other; there was an understanding that they both shared.

__

Credit to some man, the same, failed her.

They were all clues to what Star's next step would be. They pointed to the same thing, or really, the same person.

Barbara just needed to get there first.

****

TBC


	12. Auntie Up

****

Title: _Auntie Up_

Chapter Completed: March 31, 2005

Star smiled. It was true; she couldn't give them any credit for anything. No, that was giving them too much. But it was also true, that it was their fault that this had happened to poor Sara in the first place. Yes, that was true. It was all their fault…well, specifically a grown man in a Bat costume, a sleazy cop and a piece of walking filth. Two had been punished, only one to go.

"No hard feelings," she cooed, pulling the cord tighter around the pair of wrists. Neither The Penguin nor The Joker replied. They were both delightfully dazed. Men were so easy sometimes.

"Also Clown," she crawled up to straddle his lap, "so sorry I had to use you then. Just trying on different roles and all," she leaned in to kiss his ruby smile, blocked by the cloth gag. "Your old jack-in-the-box scared Sara though," she pushed off him, hands digging into his groin for leverage. "And Birdie," she swung around to him, "she was so accommodating to your greedy whims," reaching down, she pinched the chubby flesh of his cheek giving it a little slap when she was through, "But no matter. After we're finished up here, I don't really care what happens to you, bigger boys to deal with and all. Much bigger problems"

She walked away from the pair, who sat tied together in matching chairs in the middle of the roof. A few softly spoken words and they had obediently brought themselves and the needed accessories up the fifteen stories to the roof of the Gotham Arms Apartments complex without complaint. There was just one last piece to the puzzle before the game could start. Star's smile twisted. Sara just needed to help with that, remembering that night to let out a proper call, the proper way to get attention. Not that it had attracted any attention the _first_ time! No, but this time she was sure she could get the right audience. Everything depended on it. A damsel in distress, throw in the usual rogues, and the Bat was sure to come running…or flapping. Those two were the guarantee in his arrival. Maybe saving a girl from the greasy hands of some street-punk wasn't enough of a draw for the Caped Crusader. No matter now, he'd show up this time.

'Sara sweety,' Star began to coo, 'Remember what it felt like when Billy touched you? Those dirty, callused hands between your legs?'

Sara whimpered.

'That's it…remember it? When he touched you, and took you, and left you for dead…'

Sara let a blood-cuddling scream out into the darkness.

****

x x x

Barbara had to hurry. She had to get there before Batman, she had to get there and end all of this. She had to protect Sara.

She stopped.

Was that why she was rushing? Was it for Sara?

A new wave of confusion hit her and she was unable to move.

****

x x x

With a loud thud, Batman landed solidly on the roof of Gotham Arms Apartments; a second later Robin landed beside him. Neither one spoke, but a simple nod was enough communication. The pair began to creep, carefully, cautiously and low to the ground.

Star stood there in her own costumed glory, a satisfied smile on her face, "Ah, the Batman. Nice to finally arrive for us. And you've brought your little bird buddy."

Batman glanced over to Robin without loosing sight of the girl in front of them, "Star," it wasn't a question as much as an assumption or educated guess.

"Nice to know you recognise little old we," she teased, sizing the pair in front of her. Quite honestly Star was impressed by the large frame of the Batman; he was broad and solid, but held a mysterious shadow over him, "I can see how all the girls quiver before you," she turned to smile at the ropy sidekick, "And I'm sure they squeal for you."

Robin felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

"Do you ever hate him for it?" her voice taking on that musical sing-song, "Hate how he uses you, steals all your glory. He always has the spotlight. Does he treat you like a child, even now?"

Behind the mask, Robin's eyes fluttered between the woman and the partner; His mind processing the thoughts filling his head. The deepest thoughts coming to the forefront.

For himself, the Batman was intrigued. Ever studying the new foe.

"How much better would it be without him, alone. Free from the way he uses you…" Star continued, "Think of the fame and attention that would be rightfully yours if HE was gone."

Robin twitched and Batman watched.

"Get rid of him, like you've always wanted," she suggested, "Show him that you're just as strong, if not more, than him."

Something clicked and Robin sprang: lunging at his mentor, his teacher, his friend.

Star giggled; men really were easy. Just as vain and egotistical as woman are accused of being. But so much easier to tell them what to do.

"You're not going to let him get away with that are you?" She turned her attention to the Bat, "After all you've done for him; taken him in, raised him. All you've taught him…"

Batman tried to shake off the musical voice invading his mind while holding off the attack, "You're…you're the reason." He found himself slipping into suggestion.

"You flatter me Bats," she sneered, "But they're all your ideas, I just bring them out." Star watched as a solid fist made contact with the exposed cheek of the older superhero, a twisted amusement filling her, "You could have saved yourself all this trouble if you just helped a screaming girl."

Sara peeked through; her sadness and fear showing in the sparkling eyes; "If you had only helped me…so much could be different…"

"It still can be!" a hurried voice appeared behind her, "It could still be different Sara if you stop this now."

Sara didn't turn away from the struggle playing out in front of her, but knew it was Barbara, "They need to be punished. They never helped me…"

"But making them kill each other isn't going to make you feel better. It isn't going to heal you." She didn't bother masking her panic.

"She says it'll help," Sara squeaked.

Barbara came closer, keeping a fevered watch on her crime fighting family; "Did it help having Detective Allen die? Or having Billy jump? Don't make yourself a killer."

"Sh—I killed them, I made them die," Sara's voice choked, a cracked sob.

"No," she moved around to meet the eyes of the other woman, "It was before you knew what you could do. You didn't really kill them"

"Do you really believe that?" Sara locked eyes with Barbara desperately needing to see the answer, to see if there was any truth in what she was claiming. Or if, yet another person, was setting her up to hurt her.

Against any judgement from Batgirl, she replied; "Yes…I do." And with that, she pressed her lips to the painted ones before her. Slow starting, the pressure increased as the other woman began to respond. The soft sweep of tongue trying to communicate everything beyond words, beyond thought and the light bite of teeth answering. A desperate need to be everything denied, to taste everything that had been taunted.

Barbara reluctantly pulled back, breathless, "Please, stop all this now."

She shook her head, fighting the internal battle cycling inside her head. What was real, what was true, what was what she supposed to do. She thought it had all been planned out, but now she wasn't sure of anything.

"Sara, please. You're stronger than all this."

She looked up at the other woman through wet eyes; blinking once, twice, "I'm not."

Barbara cupped Sara's cheek, "I believe you are. I honestly believe you're that much stronger."

"How?" she cried.

"You know who you are. You aren't afraid of who you are."

"But I've hidden behind Star"

"Only now," Barbara cut her off, "I've been hiding behind Batgirl and Perfect Daughter for so long I've forgotten – and denied – who Barbara Gordon really is." It was than that Sara realised the other woman was without cape and mask, she was raw and exposed. "You still have a chance to just be Sara Adams. If you stop all this now!"

The game between Batman and Robin had escalated. Both were sporting bruises and marks of their battle, but nether pulling back. Neither was willing to submit to defeat. The thoughts Star had tapped into were still dominating their minds – the partners were trying to kill each other over wounded prides.

__

Can I do this alone? She said she's always been there, always there to help me, will she forgive me if I go alone? Has it always just been me?

For the first time in years, Sara was alone with her thoughts. There were not a shared conversation between two parties, they were just the internal workings of one person. Had Star left or had the shift started to mend? Could she just really be loosing it, everything? Or was this a new lease on life?

"But Star is perfect…why be Sara when she's the one who's strong, she's never a victim, she knows who she is, she's straight. God, she's everything I'm not." Sara voiced the last shreds of fear she was clinging to.

"No," Barbara pushed forward, "you've got it wrong. You're strong, you're powerful, and you don't have to be a victim. Not even to her. You just have to be you; the whole you, starting now."

Again Sara watched the pair fighting, wrestling at the roof's edge. Robin pushing Batman down, one more step and both would fall over. One more push and it would be over. One more push and past sins would be avenged.

A deep breath, a decision made.

"Stop," her soft voice rang out.

The fight ended.

****

TBC

__

A/N: one more chapter to go. Thanks to any and all who have been reading.


	13. All Bets are Final epilogue

****

Title: _All Bets Are Final (epilogue)_

Chapter Completed: April7, 2005

It couldn't be avoided, and at least it wasn't the dark, dangerous ward in the basement. But Sara Adams was now an inmate being held behind the walls of Arkham Asylum.

Once Batman and Robin had awakened from the fog of their own minds, a new set of questions presented themselves. In front of them stood the wanted criminal being comforted by an unmasked vigilante. What was more puzzling to the men was the familiarity between the two women. So much had gone on here, but no explanation was offered, just a pointed look and the offer of two captured rogues. Things had changed, or maybe the changes were just finally being noticed by the other two.

The handing over of The Joker and The Penguin had aided Sara in being given one of the nicer accommodations in the prison asylum. It also didn't hurt that she had made influential friends. And it all seemed to spell the end of Star. An existence that would become a myth in the memory of Gotham, but a loose end to its underworld.

Barbara Gordon waited on the other side of the cell. "How are you?" she offered the careful question.

"I've seen nicer places, but it's good to have some time alone," Sara smiled at her bad joke, assuring the other woman that there was no need to tiptoe around that subject.

She returned the secret smile, "Are you alright?" Three simple words asking more than their individual meaning.

"I will be," she nodded. She believed it. She would be, with time and healing – and understanding. What she didn't believe was that THIS place was going to cure her, it wasn't their cure that she needed…if it was a cure that she needed at all. "How about you Babs? How are you doing?" she locked eyes with the other woman.

A blush tinted her cheeks as she turned away quickly.

"I'm not a villain," she added in a quick, sharp breath.

"I never thought you were," Barbara confessed, a part of her felt a sort of hero-worship for the younger woman in her ability to just be, and another was almost ashamed of it. It was a strange, new chapter of her life that was restarting. "With everything I could never really think of you as a villain, nothing like them," she had a thought of the relationship between Bruce and Selena. But was she really a villain either – or was everything shades of grey?

"I'd better get going," Barbara excused herself, offering a shy, sad smile, "I'm late, but I will be back."

Sara nodded; the other woman always left once the conversation turned to her. And without using her gift it was impossible to know exactly what was going on in her head. So a simple smile and wave was how they said goodbye.

Sara watched her pass through the locked doors and by the armed nurses. She put her hand over her chest, a thin layer of coloured cotton separated her from the white scar that lay under it, "But I'll never be a victim again."

x x x

"Daddy," Barbara jogged up to her father, Police Commissioner James Gordon, "Sorry I'm late." She stretched up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"It's alright, gives me an excuse to spend some more time outside," he smiled, happy to see his daughter at all, "So, were you off on some date, and couldn't pull yourself away?"

She blushed, "Um…sort of, something like that." She cleared her throat; "So, where do you want to take me for lunch?"

"Ah…I'm paying am I?" he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he took comfort in these moments where nothing seemed different. The moments where he could pretend that there was nothing outside of them, where there were no Bats or crazed villains running around in the shadows.

"You'd love me no matter what, right Dad?" the question jumped out between them.

"Of course," he gave her a puzzled looked, "There's nothing you could do, or be that would make me not love you." He watched her closely: There was always something else that was bubbling just under the surface and it couldn't be ignored forever, "Is there something you want…or need to tell me?"

__

Yes! Millions of things. But no idea where to start. "Not yet," she choose her response carefully, flashing him that warm smile again, "But I will."

****

END

A/N: My friend will be happy to note that I finally finished this one…not that he was reading it, just that I finished it at all. A year later, but still.


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